


the ABCs of flight school

by zxrysky



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, But not in the kinky way, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Lots of Original Characters - Freeform, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Only a little bit don't worry, Romance, Slow Burn, during flight school, i forgot what to tag now, i guess, mention of pidge - Freeform, ok wait no they discuss having sex a few times, once (1) right at the end, so it's a very holy fic, they say fuck once, when they're adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: There’s a new transferee. A kid with an undercut so sharp it’s as if all he has is a Mohawk, slanted eyes and a stiff jaw. He’s pretty large, filling out his uniform so well it looks tailored to fit those broad shoulders, the seams straining at the edges to keep his muscles in check. Cadets aren’t allowed to alter their uniforms. Only three sizes available, and it looks as if this kid will burst out of the largest one any moment now.Adam feels like he would ignore this kid on sight, but this very same kid with thick fingers and tensed back broke the record for the flight simulation entrance examination, and set a new precedence for the academics test as well.





	the ABCs of flight school

**Author's Note:**

> just as i write this with a whole cast of OCs for their life in the garrison and then my idol rev comes up with philip and now i wanna write about him well we'll see how it goes also this is a shout out for him again please follow him if you are a fan of this fic lol he is keeping shadam alive

There’s a new transferee. A kid with an undercut so sharp it’s as if all he has is a Mohawk, slanted eyes and a stiff jaw. He’s pretty large, filling out his uniform so well it looks tailored to fit those broad shoulders, the seams straining at the edges to keep his muscles in check. Cadets aren’t allowed to alter their uniforms. Only three sizes available, and it looks as if this kid will burst out of the largest one any moment now.

 

Adam feels like he would ignore this kid on sight, but this very same kid with thick fingers and tensed back broke the record for the flight simulation entrance examination, and set a new precedence for the academics test as well.

 

If there’s anything Adam knows how to do, it’s to stick to people who will get him to places. So he realizes, intellectually, that there is a multitude of reasons why he needs to get close to the transferee. Still, there’s a part of him that shies away. It’s mostly his fight or flight instinct yelling at him in his brain.

 

This kid looks like he could take Adam apart with one good hit to his solar plexus. Not that Adam would ever let it come to that, in a fight, because he actually _knows_ how to fight and this kid just looks like he’s been duking it out on the streets. There’s something to be said for skill over desperation, at least.

 

He shifts in queue, leaning out of line to peer at how many people are left in front of him. Everyone is waiting patiently for their turn, fiddling with their phones or talking in hushed voices to their friends. The food dispenser lets out a long series of chirps, and a cadet walks away with a tray in hand.

 

The automated system next to it, however, beeps once, twice, and makes a sad dying croon as the light flickers off. Adam’s lips curl up, watching in amusement as James scowls at it, kicking the bottom of the machine sharply. His scowl only grows bigger when the system doesn’t respond, his face reflected back to him in a black screen.

 

Someone laughs, stepping out of line and heading over to James. He nudges the cadet aside, bending down and flipping the port open with ease. There’s a bit of fiddling, some messing around with a screwdriver, and a sprinkle of mechanic magic that Adam can’t quite catch a glimpse of. But he recognizes the boy as the current star of the engineering department.

 

If engineer and design don’t work out, maybe this kid can look into being a handyman, he thinks wryly, even though there’s no way the shining beacon of the engineer department’s hope will ever end up somewhere not on a spaceship.

 

The queue moves forward, and Adam steps along with it. Funny how business proceeds as usual even when one cadet’s food gets jammed in a blacked out food processor. Just another day at the Garrison, he considers fondly.

 

Ken grins at James, motions for him to move back, and aims a high kick at the system.

 

“You’re going to get scolded by Iverson,” Adam calls out in amusement, watching Ken’s shin slam into the side of the machine. “Or Bradley. Whichever one that hates you more.”

 

“Everyone loves me, Adam,” Ken replies brightly, and pats the processor when it makes a chirping noise. “And if I fix this baby, no one can hold anything against me.” A light blinks back into existence on the top of the machine, bright green flashing twice, and the dark screen lights up.

 

James’ food slides out in a flourish, albeit a little messier on the tray than usual, and he shoots Ken a grateful smile as he picks it up and hurries off. Someone offers for Ken to order his food first, but the cadet waves him away and bounds over to Adam, cutting in front of him.

 

“Hey, mind you, Engineering Star,” Adam says in mock irritation, shoulder shoving against Ken’s. “Cutting queue, are we? What would your parents say?”

 

“Technically I was in front of you in the queue, so it’s not cutting anything,” Ken informs him smugly, pushing back equally hard. “Why’d you get dismissed so late? Lee get on your ass about being concise again?”

 

Adam raises an eyebrow. “No,” he replies with a twist of his lips, irritation at that memory surging up inside. “He didn’t try to preach to me about the virtue of brevity today, not after I sent him a _very_ concise email apologizing about it with words in there that he definitely does not know.”

 

“Petty,” Ken admires, and they move ahead in the queue together. “So what was it?”

 

“The new kid.” A smile grows on his face when Ken’s eyes widen. “Yeah, _that_ new kid,” he adds, when Ken opens his mouth.

 

Ken looks him up and down, and frowns. “He looks like he’d take you apart in one good punch.”

 

Adam suppresses a laugh. He’d been thinking the exact same thing a while ago, hadn’t he? “He probably can,” he admits, shaking his head. “But you know how it is. They asked me to bring him around, show him the ropes and stuff. Since he’s a transferee.”

 

“Well, I hope to still see you alive in a few days then,” Ken says, patting Adam on the back. They reach the front of the queue and approach a processor, with Ken rapidly flicking through the menus displayed on the screen. “Teacher’s pet gets the shittiest jobs, right?”

 

“And engineering stars end up fixing food processors, right?” Adam shoots back, smiling. Ken makes a face at him, grabbing the tray off the table and hip-checking Adam.

 

“You eating with us?” He asks after a pause, eyes roving across mess hall to pick out their friends. “Or going back to your dorm?”

 

Adam peers over his shoulder, lets his gaze slide to one kid eating at an empty table, and raises an eyebrow at Ken. “No,” he replies, turning back to the processor and scooping his tray off the table. “I think I’m going somewhere else today.”

 

“Have fun!” Ken says, and his grin is blinding. “Maybe he’ll even join our friends one day, consider _that_.”

 

He winks, and Adam huffs out a laugh. What a shark-eat-shark world it is here, he thinks wryly. Where everyone wants to be at the top of their department. Where everyone wants to make friends with those they know will become the stars of the space exploration program.

 

Adam eyes Takeshi Shirogane speculatively. Maybe his talent with the flight simulation won’t be a one hit wonder.

 

The star of the linguistics department slides onto the bench opposite the transferee, and offers him a smile.

 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Adam says pleasantly, and puts his hand out. “My name is Wright. Adam Wright.”

 

The kid stares at him for a moment, brows furrowing in confusion, eyes sliding from Adam’s outstretched hand to his face and back again. He reaches out, grips Adam’s hand firmly, and shakes it once.

 

“Takeshi Shirogane,” he murmurs, sharp eyes boring into Adam. “But you can call me Shiro.”

 

-+-

 

The first thing Adam notices about Shiro is how socially awkward he is. Alright, that’s a huge lie, because there’s so many things to notice about Shiro that Adam can’t place just one. But the first thing that sticks, that strikes Adam as a little strange, is how socially inept this kid is.

 

He almost told Iverson to his face that he could fly better than him. In front of the entire first rank flight class, no less. Shiro just got out of the plane, listened to Iverson give him some _admittedly_ useless criticism under the guise of advice, and opened his mouth. Adam still remembers it as if it were yesterday.

 

“With all due respect, sir,” Shiro had said, thinking that just by saying those first four words, everything would be pardoned by teachers, “I think your advice is kinda more ineffi-“

 

“He understands, sir,” Adam had finished with a closed eye smile, one hand whipping out and gripping Shiro’s wrist. He remembers tugging forcefully, and Shiro had followed along with confusion pulling at his brows. Clearly, the transferee did _not_ understand what was going on.

 

Adam could have slapped him. One wrong word to Iverson and their instructor’s ego would have been brutalized enough to kick Shiro out of first rank fighter pilots. And how could that happen, when Shiro was well on his way to breaking every single record in the Garrison?

 

For those that involve flying and physical fitness, at least, Adam amends in his head, because every other current record holder is present in his class.

 

“He needs a leash,” Ken mutters to him under his breath, leaning back in his seat. The lecture theatre is stark white, the seats hard metal digging into covered skin, and Adam shifts to avoid cramping up in the middle of physics class.

 

“Are you going to give him one?” He asks idly, taking down some notes in a book. Ken’s side of the table is noticeably devoid of anything.

 

A tick develops at the side of his head. Just because physics comes naturally to the engineering genius sitting next to him, it doesn’t mean everyone can chatter away during lecture and still shatter the previous top score set for every physics paper there is to take.

 

Ken eyes Shiro thoughtfully. The boy in question is sitting one row in front of them, leaning over a book as he scribbles something down. Alexis catches a glimpse of his notes and leans over to correct something. Shiro smiles gratefully at her, reaching for tape to erase the error off.

 

Another thing about Shiro, Adam notes, is that he’s a huge softie. Strange, when he’s almost as huge as Kamel, the physical fitness instructor. Kamel looks like he could punt Adam through a wall. Maybe three walls.

 

Shiro’s bad boy look on the first day of transferring was such an impressive misdirection that Adam could have respected him for it, if only it was on purpose. But it was definitely an unplanned accident, since Shiro had lit up as brightly as a night sky during their astrology lessons once he found out Adam was meant to show him around.

 

“Going around pissing teachers off is pretty funny, but not when it could irrevocably ruin his career, y’know?” Ken drawls, running a hand through his hair. He is careful to not let his voice travel to Shiro’s ears, for fear of dire consequences. A smile slips onto Adam’s face when he imagines what Shiro would do if he had heard Ken.

 

He lets his gaze rest on Shiro’s back, pen resting for a second too long on his paper, and the ink blots. It spreads into a small circle on his paper, too large to be neat. Adam blinks, catching himself staring, and reaches for tape.

 

Ken’s faster than he is, and he reaches it first. He grabs it and hides it behind his back, raising an eyebrow at Adam. There’s judgment in his eyes, coupled with wry amusement, and Adam can’t help his lips curling up when he sees how tickled Ken looks.

 

“Yes?” He asks, turning his hand upwards, palm outstretched towards Ken. “Tape? Please?”

 

Something glints in his friend’s eye. “I caught you looking,” Ken murmurs, voice low. Adam has to suppress a shiver. There’s a very good reason why Ken is one of the biggest playboys in the Garrison. And the cadet before him knows it, too.

 

Adam huffs out a laugh and takes in a breath. “Looking at what?” He feigns ignorance, choosing to pretend the inkblot doesn’t exist and continuing to take down neat notes. Jackson eyes the inkblot and slides his tape over, leaning behind Adam’s hunched back to shake his head at Ken.

 

Ken grins, and keeps Adam’s tape hostage for the foreseeable future. He jerks his head at the large back in front of them and winks. “I caught you _looking_ ,” he repeats, a long slow drawl, tongue curling around the last word.

 

He can feel something warm press up at the bottom of his tailbone. Hormones are the absolute worst, Adam considers, and decides to stop feigning ignorance.

 

“So?” He settles back in his seat, glancing at Jackson’s notes and deciding he can copy off them if he misses anything Bradley says, and finally lets his gaze linger.

 

Shiro’s back is wide, shoulders broad and he can pick out the small juts of his backbone rising through the cloth. His hair’s finally growing back in, tiny tufts of black curling at the base of his neck, tickling the edge of his ear lobes. There’s something sturdy about Shiro. Something hefty, like his muscles that love to strain at his uniform.

 

As if Adam could barrel into him, and he wouldn’t move a muscle.

 

“Is that your type, then?” Ken asks slyly. “Large and muscular?”

 

“Adam has eyes for anything that’s attractive,” Jackson snorts, shaking his head. “He just doesn’t say anything. But he’s got eyes for _everyone_.”

 

“Is it my fault that everyone at the Garrison looks good?” Adam points out, an embarrassed smile creeping up on his face unannounced. “Everyone at their peak physical fitness, full to the brim with intelligence and sharp reflexes. Is anyone surprised that everyone looks great here?”

 

Ken flicks Adam’s wrist with his fingers. “That’s not what I meant,” he hums in a lilting voice. “I’ve never seen you get distracted by someone. And by someone, I mean-” he inclines his head at the boy in front of them again, raising both eyebrows.

 

Interesting how none of them are paying attention in Bradley’s class, Adam thinks, and wipes the thought from his mind. Ken wants an answer, and there’s only one that Adam can give. Or rather, there’s a lot of answers that Adam can give, but there’s only a few that Ken will be willing to accept. And one of them is absolutely fantastic, anyways.

 

“Look at him,” he murmurs quietly, waving to gesture at Shiro’s back. Adam lets his eyes trace Shiro’s spine, noting that his ears are tinged a little red. Weird, since the air conditioner’s working perfectly fine. He shouldn’t be feeling cold. Poor blood circulation, maybe?

 

He bites his lip involuntarily, and his lips twist into a smile. “I bet he’d be able to hold me up against a wall.”

 

Ken presses his entire fist against his mouth to stifle his laughter. Jackson huffs out a laugh, turning back to his notes. Shiro’s shoulders look a little tense, as if he can hear what they’re saying. Possibly, Adam imagines, but there’s nothing wrong with finding a friend dastardly hot. Ken wants to hear it all the time.

 

“It’s the muscles, right?” Ken says with a laugh, slouching further in his seat. “I mean, I get where you’re coming from, at least.”

 

“Right? Like why would you not?” Adam reaches over to save his kidnapped tape that slipped out of Ken’s loose grip.

 

“Oh, _yeah_ ,” Ken responds, shaking his head. “So… you gonna be the one that puts that leash on him, then?”

 

Adam almost chokes on his spit. A breathy laugh escapes him, and he reaches over to jab Ken without even bothering to look at him. “ _Stop_ it,” he says, turning his attention back to his notes. “We can continue this discussion later. Right now I need to make sure Bradley still thinks I’m his second golden child.”

 

Bradley looks over at that exact moment, eyeing Ken and Adam. Ken grins, waving back at the lecturer, and Adam can see the lecturer’s lips twitch up. He offers a nod, and Bradley nods imperceptibly back.

 

“Teacher’s pet,” Ken needles, and Adam’s faint smile grows larger.

 

-+-

 

“It’s not like I’m being disrespectful, right?” Shiro grumbles from his position on the bed, an arm flung over his face, the other tucked beneath his pillow. “I’m a good student. But why do so many teachers… not like me?”

 

“It’s not that they don’t like you, Shiro,” Matt says patiently. “Sometimes you just say some things that they don’t want to hear. Or you say some things that come off as rude. Or you question their authority. This is a military school, in the end. These teachers love respect and authority.”

 

Adam privately thinks Matt is an absolute saint, and nods sagely along to his words when Shiro lifts his arm to peek at him. He tilts his head to Shiro’s roommate, nodding slightly, and turns his attention back to his book.

 

“Listen to Matt,” Adam says after a short pause. “He’s not wrong.”

 

“I’m rarely wrong,” the cadet shoots back, rolling over in bed and pulling his pillow beneath his chin. “What are you reading? Shiro wants to have like, a heart-to-heart here on why so many teachers dislike him, and you’re here reading a book.”

 

“See, even _you_ say they dislike me!” Shiro cries out, sitting up in bed. “God, what is it? What do I have to do? Just stop talking?”

 

“They don’t dislike you,” Matt corrects, amusement glimmering in his eyes. Everyone in this room knows Matt just said their instructors have… a certain vendetta against Shiro. Every teacher except Kamel, maybe, who thinks Shiro’s the best thing since sliced bread. Mostly because Shiro’s the only one who can put up a decent spar against him.

 

“Ugh, guys,” he sighs, putting his face in his hands and pressing the bottom of his palms against his eyelids. “It’s a serious problem. I think Iverson might actually kill me one day. Or kick me out of class.”

 

“Oh, he’s definitely on the edge of kicking you out of class,” Adam says instinctively, turning a page of his book. He momentarily forgets who he’s talking to. “Iverson’s on a hair trigger right now.”

 

Shiro blinks once, twice, and all but flies off the bed. He settles on the ground next to Adam, eyes wide, and he’s leaning in so close Adam feels tempted to do something… unholy. Something he probably shouldn’t do in front of Matt. Something that Matt, that little gremlin, is probably imagining them doing right now, because he has the widest smile on his face and Ken has the biggest mouth in the Garrison.

 

The biggest mouth in the Garrison and no gag reflex, a sly voice at the back of Adam’s mind comments, and he has to suppress a heady chuckle.

 

Regardless of the track his mind is taking, Shiro is still in front of him, earnest and eager and surprised. Something shifts inside of Adam, traveling down his spine to settle in his abdomen and purr like a kitten. It’s very distracting, as is Shiro’s cheekbones, and he almost misses Shiro’s question.

 

“Can you teach me how to be- er, there’s no good way to put this, but can you teach me how to make teachers like me more?” Shiro’s voice is tinged with the barest hints of desperation, and Adam finds himself liking that sound. Then he realizes what he’s thinking, and mentally shakes himself.

 

Shiro leans back and Adam mourns the loss of proximity between them. He settles on the ground, feet crossing like a child in front of him, and he rubs a hand at the base of his neck. There’s an embarrassed flush on his face, and Adam very carefully doesn’t glance at Matt. He doesn’t want to know what sort of face he’s making. And by he, Adam isn’t even sure if he’s referring to the smug face Matt will definitely have on, or his own face.

 

Adam briefly wonders what he looks like. What sort of expression is he making, he wonders detachedly, staring at Shiro.

 

“I can tell they like you a lot. A whole lot. And they treat me better when they see me with you.” Shiro pauses, face burning up all of a sudden, and waves his hands in the space in front of him.

 

“Teacher’s pet,” Matt coughs in the background, but no one pays him any attention.

 

“I mean, it’s kind of really blatant favoritism and I just want to know if you had any tips on them liking me... just a bit more? What exactly is it about you that makes them so pleased with you, anyways? I just want to be able to live life without Iverson looking like he’s out to kill me all the time.”

 

Shiro stops, breathless from his tirade, and all Adam feels like doing is blink once at him and turn back to his book. Blatant favoritism, he contemplates, and something like irritation surges up inside of him. Fair enough, he’s got all the teachers wrapped around his goddamn little finger, but it’s not like he smiled once and angels came down from heaven to bless him. He worked hard for their favor. He had to study their individual ticks, what made them happy, what made them pissed off; Adam slowly but steadily built up some seriously impressive rapports with these people, and it’s because he knows what he wants in life.

 

He wants to be the head of the linguistics department in three years after graduation. The current one is an old fart who knows absolutely nothing and can’t be trusted to decipher new languages. Adam wants his job because he knows he can be far better at it. And here’s the thing - he knows exactly how to get there. This is all part of his plan, albeit a rather manipulative one that makes people angry when they find out, but still. Still.

 

To play it off as blatant favoritism, as if Adam did absolutely nothing and had this blessing rain down on him - even their friends aren’t this ignorant. Shiro made it sound like all Adam did was click his fingers and suddenly he’s where he is today. He glances to the side and spots Matt looking hesitant, as if he wants to step in. Like he doesn’t know what Adam will do.

 

Good, Adam thinks viciously, and paints a smile on his face. He makes sure he looks so delighted that even Shiro perks up, thinking he’s about to receive some sagely wisdom on how to become well-liked by his peers and his teachers.

 

“That is exactly why our instructors don’t like you very much,” Adam says, eyes closed with the force of his smile, and swiftly slams his book shut with a crack. He doesn’t want to see Shiro’s face. “You insult people too easily and you don’t even realize it. You can’t read the situation. It’s called having a low emotional quotient. A poor EQ. In some cases, it’s even incurable.”

 

Funny, how just a few moments ago he was about ready to jump Shiro’s bones, Matt’s presence be damned, and now he’s absolutely furious. If he didn’t have such precise control over himself, Adam’s certain he’d be shaking with anger.   But still, some part of him _likes_ Shiro. He can’t help it; Shiro is nice. He tries hard. He’s earnestly stupid. He’s desperate for his teachers to like him.

 

So Adam stands up and looks steadily at the wall, avoiding both Shiro and Matt’s gaze. “Try sucking up to them,” he says, knowing that’s what a lot of people accuse him of doing behind his back. Is being polite and respectful considered “kissing ass” now? Is helping them stroke their ego every once in a while, “kissing ass”? Is maintaining a good rep with these people who will one day be his panel of judges to assess him, be his coworkers and be the reason he reaches his goal in three years, “ _kissing ass_ ”?

 

“Maybe kiss their ass every now and then,” he continues, voice cold. “Change it up a bit. Maybe then you can get the blatant favoritism you want, like it falls down from the sky for you.” He openly glances at his wrist that has absolutely nothing on it and shrugs, dusting his book off. “And would you look at the time? I have to go. I’ll see you two at flight class later.”

 

Adam leaves, anger broiling at his seams and rushing through his veins, heads to the library. He needs to read a few texts to cool himself down. Maybe he’ll even time himself to see how fast he can translate a text into three different languages. That’ll be a challenge to take his mind off this mess, he decides.

 

-+-

 

He’s underestimated how much weight his words (or perhaps, his feelings) have with his friends. A good thing, Adam supposes, since this just goes to reinforce how he can actually place his trust and faith in the people he’s surrounded himself with. He didn’t say a single word and yet his entire crew has split themselves into shifts to corral Adam away from Shiro’s vicinity. He’s fairly certain they’re so effective at their job that Shiro hasn’t even caught a glimpse of him after that incident.

 

Adam has Matt to thank for this, he thinks, filtering through other possibilities and eliminating them one by one. Shiro wouldn’t have told them about it. Maybe he would have tried to be sneaky and ask one of them how to reconcile with a friend, because god knows Shiro needs a step by step helping guide, but he wouldn’t have said anything about the incident.

 

It was definitely Matt who told them. And in the process, turned their entire group against Shiro. Perhaps not their entire group, since they still interact with him and all, but there’s a clear barrier between them now. Little by little they ostracize him in the subtlest of ways, and poor Shiro isn’t quite sure why he’s feeling so left out all of a sudden, surely.

 

Adam hides a laugh, shaking his head fondly. Monsters, his friends. All of them, just cruel people that know very well how to wield psychology to their benefit and twist the minds of others.

 

He almost feels bad for Shiro. Then he remembers what Shiro had said, remembers how painful it had been to hear it to his face, all laid out and stripped bare; how even a transferee that hadn’t been here for more than a few months would think this of him, and Adam kills the pity inside of him without remorse.

 

That’s what he tells himself, anyways. Sometimes his eyes sweep the room, instinctively searching for Shiro’s piercing gaze, and all he sees is a despondent face with hunched shoulders before Ken slides into his vision with a raised eyebrow.

 

And it’s happened again, he thinks wryly, sinking further into his chair. Ken’s lips are pursed, fingers tapping a rhythm against the table as he conspicuously blocks Adam’s view of Shiro. How petty they all are, he thinks, abruptly fond of all his friends. They hadn’t banded together under the guise of friendship at first, all just vultures circling for fresh carcasses; they became friends the same way snakes sometimes stuck together. To make it easier to hunt. And somewhere along the way, it blossomed into a genuine friendship that has culminated in... what? Hazing Shiro?

 

“Maybe I should talk to him.” Adam laughs at the way Ken rolls his eyes and spreads his arms open to cut a benevolent figure. “You guys are just bullying him now.”

 

“Not bullying if he can’t figure out we’re doing it,” Ken shoots back, and glances behind him. Adam takes the chance to peek, and Shiro looks so forlorn it makes even him feel sad. That can’t be healthy. “And it’s not really bullying if we’re still nice to him. Look at how many people are over there, and how many are over here. He’s still surrounded by us and our pleasantries.”

 

“It can and it is, Ken,” Adam admonishes. Matt’s talking to him now, patting Shiro’s back in what must be a semblance of encouragement, and Ken snaps his fingers in front of Adam’s eyes.

 

“Seriously, he insults you so badly and you just let it slide?” Ken’s fingers drum faster against the table, agitation in his voice. “You would have destroyed anyone else over this. We’re just doing this on your behalf, since you appear to have suddenly discovered a soft spot for the new guy.”

 

Were they that upset for him? Every day he learns new things, Adam marvels, a little embarrassed about how concerned his friends apparently are.

 

“It is a very nice favor,” Adam agrees, but his gaze is stern when it slides to Ken. “I would have done this to any other cadet in here, but that’s because most of them are the same as us. Inherently greedy and filled with bitter jealousy. From them, an insult is an _insult_.

 

“But from Shiro?” His voice lifts, incredulity tainting his words. “He was picked out of nowhere and shoved in. He doesn’t know how we work. He doesn’t know he’s insulting people when everyone here has such tender, fragile egos made of glass that we all crumble beneath a few words.”

 

Adam pauses, brows dipping with frustration, and lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “Myself included,” he admits eventually. “He doesn’t mean any harm. Surely even you can tell that.”

 

Ken looks pensive. And a little unconvinced. Adam rolls his eyes and adds, “look, if it had been Issac who said that to my face, he’d be expelled by now, okay? I haven’t changed. Stop worrying so much.”

 

“I worry because I care. Albeit reluctantly,” Ken replies, eyeing him. He scoots back in his chair, metal screeching against metal, and stands. “Fair enough, Teacher’s Pet. If you want to talk to him, he’s all yours. And we’ll stop with the hazing. That wasn’t cool.”

 

“Well, at least you realized it in the end,” Adam allows, inclining his head in thanks. He contemplates something for a brief moment, and opens his mouth. “Tell Matt to go back to his dorm late, okay?”

 

Ken snorts and shakes his head. “How about I tell him to take your bed for tonight?”

 

Adam laughs, his voice bright and loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Shiro glance up quickly, head moving so fast he suspects whiplash, and looking like a wounded man when he catches sight of Adam.

 

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up so high,” he chastises, lips still curled up.

 

“Who knows?” Ken shrugs, pushing his chair in. “Shiro’s already gotten lucky, with you willing to talk it out. Maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.” He breaks into laughter, and shoots a wink at Adam.

 

Adam rolls his eyes and waves his roommate away, but he’s laughing nonetheless.

 

-+-

 

He sits on Matt’s bed, legs tucked beneath him, fingers lying on the pillow he’s placed on his lap. Matt’s neat, with files of notes carefully lined up on the shelf and textbooks arranged in a corner on the table. His bed is properly made up, blanket slightly folded back at the top to air the sheets below.

 

Adam leans back slightly to rest the back of his head against the wall. His fingers itch to curl into the cloth below. He resists, but can’t stop his gaze from wandering over to take Shiro’s half of the room into consideration.

 

Not as neat as Matt, he notes with a faint smile pulling at his lips. Sheets are a little more rumpled, a few stray notes lying haphazardly on his table, pens and tape strewn over the surface. His textbooks are in a stack on the ground next to his desk, in a tower that almost reaches the surface of the table.

 

Adam raises an eyebrow at the plane model sitting right at the back of his desk. It’s made of wood, carefully balanced on a raised platform - also made of wood. It doesn’t look like shoddy workmanship, but neither does it look like the polished work sold in shops in the city. He feels tempted to go over and take a closer look, to run his hands over the sanded edges of the wood and wonder if Shiro did it by himself, but the door slams open and interrupts his thoughts.

 

“I just want to find him and talk to him, god,” Shiro mutters, frustration pulling at his voice, running a hand through his hair. There’s deep-rooted irritation digging into the sides of his eyes, shoulders higher than they should be, tension running like a bolt of lightning down his spine. “I just want to apologize to Adam, is that so hard? Is that so bad? God, it’s not like I’m dumb enough to not know I messed up-”

 

Adam gives in to his urges and starts to pick at a stray thread on Matt’s pillow. His gaze stays on Shiro, the way he stomps over to his desk and messes around with the papers on it, as if he’s contemplating just sweeping them all off in a rage of fury.

 

“-you’re in luck,” Adam interrupts, and his mind traitorously leads down the road Ken had set it on. Getting lucky seems like a fantastical happy ending, but it probably isn’t a good idea for either of their mental health states when they’re still in a state over their previous interaction.

 

Shiro whirls around, jaw dropping and eyes growing large. The tension slides off his back like a coat too large for him and he straightens. Then he narrows his eyes and sets his jaw, as if he hadn’t been startled in the first place. Shiro looks like a demigod with fire at his fingertips, ready to wreck Adam into pieces, he thinks idly. If it weren’t for the way his fingers curl hesitantly into his palm, the way he opens his mouth and closes it again, the way he suddenly drops his gaze from Adam’s eyes.

 

“I-“ he swallows, and looks up with determination burning in his eyes, “-I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry for being insensitive. Matt explained your, erm, unique situation to me, and I realize I was being rude. I’ve honestly never thought of it being that way, and I’m sorry for implying their favor was just easily given to you just like that. You- you worked hard for it, these past two years, and I’m sorry for making it seem trivial.”

 

Adam sits up, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and hums. Shiro shifts on the spot, a hand reaching up to scratch at the corner of his cheek. He’s very tempted to let Shiro stew in the hot seat for a while more, but the kid’s been all but tortured the past few days.

 

“I accept your apology,” Adam replies, and lets a smile flutter onto his face. “I apologize for overreacting. You didn’t understand, and instead of explaining properly, I blew up-“

 

“-no, it wasn’t your fault. I was being insensitive. I didn’t mean to hurt you but I did and ignorance isn’t an excuse for that. And erm,” Shiro stutters, stumbling over his words, “I’ve actually been trying to be more aware of what I say to people. Just because I think something won’t hurt me doesn’t mean it won’t hurt someone else.”

 

Adam’s smile turns into something a little more real. He imagines Alexis must have stepped in somehow. That girl was second best in terms of understanding people. She likely sat Shiro down and explained it all to him.

 

Here’s the thing: Shiro’s not _bad_. Or stupid. He’s just- well, the easiest way to say it is just that he really doesn’t have the highest EQ. Adam doesn’t know what situation he was in before he came to the Garrison, but if Shiro didn’t live with a lot of people, or if he lived with a lot of people like himself, then Adam can understand where this lack of awareness stems from.

 

But the Garrison isn’t a place like that, and that’s where Shiro falters, accidentally trampling over everyone’s desperate egos that inflated the moment they were accepted into the most elite flight school in the world. It’s even worse when Shiro’s actually talented, rising so easily to the top and then turning around and saying things like, “your advice is pretty inefficient, though?” It’s enough to ruffle Iverson’s carefully pruned feathers, even if Shiro is well on his way to clinching the idolized spot as his star pupil.

 

“You’re not bad at all, are you?” Adam asks, fondness slipping into his voice. He’s honestly surprised by how quickly Shiro drilled a way into their group of friends. By how quickly he’s grown used to this kid that’s barely 18. “It was a misunderstanding. Let’s leave it behind us.”

 

Shiro nods firmly, a relieved grin growing on his face, and then his brows dip abruptly. “About this, I’m not exactly sure, but are our friends kind of- er- mad at me?” He’s so hesitant that the statement is turned into a question and Adam stifles a laugh.

 

“To put it simply, yes,” he explains, tilting his head in amusement. “All of our friends put in effort to cultivate good relationships with all our instructors. They will be the ones to write our reports once we graduate, after all. We’re all very aware on how to get the things we need to excel. And I don’t mean to brag, but I am the most established at that. And your slight against me - no matter how unintentional - is a slight against them, who all aim for the same standard I have achieved.”

 

Shiro blanches, face rapidly paling. His fingers close over thin air, grasping at figurative straws as he tries to process this information. He opens his mouth but words seem to fail him at the last second, and he just stands there with his jaw unhinged, staring at Adam.

 

“Well,” Adam says after a lingering pause where he lets his eyes trace the contour of Shiro’s sharp, _sharp_ jaw, “it won’t continue, of course. They’ll apologize to you. You aren’t in the wrong here, don’t worry. They definitely overreacted in this aspect. You don’t deserve to be treated so shoddily by our friends. But Shiro, do keep in mind that even if you can be more at ease amongst us and speak your mind more freely-”

 

He stops, a faint smile curling over his face, “-everyone still has large egos in our group. Perhaps the largest, and yet somehow the most well deserved. Regardless, if you somehow manage to hit the bedrock of their egos, they will get mad.”

 

Like how I did, Adam thinks privately. He likes to think of himself as someone calm and collected, someone who won’t flare up at people easily, someone who can smile through everything and take it all in stride. Somehow, he thinks Shiro’s actually, _honestly_ that kind of person, not the carefully put together fake persona that Adam’s crafted.

 

“And then I apologize, right?” Shiro asks hesitantly. His fingers finally find something to grab on to, picking at the edges of his uniform.

 

Adam nods. “Of course you do.” Their friends don’t hold grudges for long. That is, for things that happen within the group. Anyone else, however, will have to pay their dues sooner or later.

 

There’s a silence that reigns for a while, hanging over their heads. It doesn’t feel oppressive, not like what Adam had imagined it might be. It just feels comfortable, like he could fall asleep right now and wake up to Shiro offering him coffee tomorrow. And then they could go to engineering class together. And then-

 

What a wild fantasy, Adam chides himself, and brings up a hand to prod at the side of his temple.

 

The bed bounces, and he stills for a startled moment, eyes wide as Shiro settles on Matt’s bed next to him, close enough for their shoulders to brush. He’s not sure if he wants to move closer or escape through the door. Adam decides on doing nothing, inhaling a shaky breath as he reclines further against the wall.

 

His fingers dig harder into the pillow. He offers a mental apology to Matt for all the creases that the cadet will find later, but there are bigger concerns to deal with now.

 

“You can be more of yourself around me too, you know?” Shiro says, turning to look at Adam. They’re close, so close and Adam can’t help but let his gaze drop to Shiro’s lips.

 

Something feels stuck in his throat. His mouth is dry, and he lets out a weak chuckle when Shiro tilts his head questioningly. “What do you mean?”

 

“Sometimes you hold yourself back from saying something. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to. You don’t have to pretend to be this really nice and cool guy in front of me, because sometimes you look tired from having to pretend for so long during school.”

 

Adam’s heart stops. He’s this close to entering cardiac arrest, and his mind helpfully conjures up the image of Shiro giving him mouth-to-mouth. _Stop it_ , he thinks desperately to his traitorous subconscious.

 

Shiro is- he is perceptive. So perceptive it’s as if he can drive to the heart of things in an instant. That’s usually a good thing, an absolutely brilliant characteristic in a leader, but couple it with his lack of ability to deliver his intentions properly and that just makes for a lot of misunderstandings and arguments.

 

How does he know, Adam wants to yell, and he bites his tongue.

 

“Oh shit, did I mess up again? I didn’t mean to insult you, and- shit, I literally _just_ apologized for before, wait, I’m really sorry- Adam? Adam?”

 

Shiro sounds frantic, hands waving in front of Adam’s face. It takes him a while to realize he’s unresponsive.

 

He blinks, and his chest moves again with a sharp inhale of breath. “No, no, Shiro, I’m not mad. I’m just… surprised. You seem to know me very well.”

 

Adam turns to Shiro, words falling from his mouth without thinking, “it’s as if you’ve been watching me very carefully for quite a while. How cute.”

 

He meant to tease. He meant to poke fun. Jackson would have rolled his eyes and jabbed him in the abdomen. Alexis would have fluttered her eyelashes at him and crooned his name so sweetly, he would eventually give up and beg for her forgiveness at trying to challenge the reigning queen of teasing people.

 

Shiro turns red, _bright_ red, the color showing up starkly against his pale skin and it makes Adam want to turn red as well.

 

-+-

 

It’s the weekend, and there’s nothing to do in the Garrison. Well, there’s actually lots of things to do in there if you want to workout, train in simulations or study, but sometimes Adam gets cabin fever in there. Staying there and staring at the many grey walls of the Garrison – it makes a guy want to leave. For the past few months, in fact, he hasn’t left the Garrison.

 

He’s been working on a personal project, holing himself up in the library just to finish this translation for extra credit, _and_ mostly to prove that damn literature head wrong. That man told Adam this text couldn’t be translated because there was no known language close enough to it for it to be deciphered. And Adam called bullshit, so he spent the next ten weeks in the library decoding it.

 

So he hasn’t left the school in a long while. And along with him, for some reason, is Shiro. When Jackson left to go hang out in the city – or even Matt, actually – Shiro would just ask if Adam was leaving, and decide to spend his entire weekend in the library with Adam. Without fail.

 

Adam doesn’t even know what Shiro does in the library, sitting next to him and flipping through textbooks. He isn’t going to lie and say he isn’t curious, but back then he was honestly more preoccupied with his work to be concerned with what Shiro was doing. If Shiro wanted to stay and accompany Adam, he isn’t going to argue with that train of thought. Having a companion in the library is always nice. If it’s Shiro, even better.

 

Now, however, the project is almost done. About ninety percent translated, and Adam’s gleefully awaiting the moment he can shove it all into the literature head’s face under the guise of academic curiosity. God, he hates that man. Every time he sees him, Adam tries to be so polite he has to bite back on every other word he wants to say, because they’re highly unflattering and mostly consist of insults.

 

It’s the weekend, he’s almost done with his project, and he’s fairly certain Shiro hasn’t ever been to the city – which is a _shame_ , so Adam’s heading out. The city is absolutely gorgeous, with skyscrapers stretching all the way up to the clouds and roads weaving their way carefully around buildings. There are research labs of all fields, manufacturing and processing plants just a little way off, and a gigantic library twice the size of the entire Garrison that’s capable of making Adam tear up every time he steps foot in it.

 

If he didn’t want to be a teacher, Adam thinks he probably would have ended up working there, in the hub of space travel. There’s nowhere else he would want to be, not when everything he’ll ever need is right there at his fingertips and he’s only a stone’s throw distance away from a library he could spend the rest of his life in.

 

Well, he thinks privately to himself, lips curling up at the thought, Shiro would probably really like this one shop. Adam recalls that wooden model on Shiro’s desk, the smooth lacquered oak as he ran his knuckles across it. It didn’t catch on his skin, didn’t leave random splinters – it was sanded down perfectly, gentle to the touch. It was honestly an excellent piece of craftsmanship.

 

There’s a place in the city where they do similar models. In the space industry, figurines like those were the next best thing to actually traveling to space. They sell paints as well, and Adam likes the thought of buying a couple for Shiro to use. The model had looked gorgeous, but he doesn’t doubt that paint could elevate it to a whole new level.

 

Shiro’s hands are steady enough to paint the tiny model. Adam’s seen them during engineering class in passing, when they have to fix a circuit board and the pliers aren’t catching on to the wires properly. It’s practically a pre-requisite to have steady hands in this industry but even Adam’s fumbled a while every now and then, dropping a tiny gear and having to salvage for one from the toolshed. Shiro just keeps going, carefully piecing everything together, skilled enough to make Ken pout from jealousy.

 

A faint smile flicks onto his face as he leans his head against the train door, the vibrations trembling through the window and throbbing against his temple. But it sounds much more attractive than keeping both eyes open and pretending to listen to whatever nonsense his friends are discussing just a little distance away.

 

Someone settles next to him and he peeks an eye open. It’s Matt, slouching in his seat and tucking both hands in his pocket. Adam catches his eye and offers him a smile, before turning back to feign sleep.

 

To no avail, unfortunately, because Matt leans in and starts whispering. Adam raises an irritated eyebrow, barely catching what his friend has to say.

 

“I hear you’ve got an interest in my roommate,” Matt murmurs, the end of his sentence lilting up so high it might as well have been a question. “How very interesting.”

 

Adam rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. Ken and his big mouth, he thinks, and he leans back in his seat, rolling his shoulders against the hard plastic, casting his gaze to the front. He instinctively seeks Shiro out, landing on the hard cut of his shoulders and tracing up his long column of neck – they make eye contact for a brief moment, and Adam’s lips curl up further, showing a hint of teeth.

 

A flush finds its way onto the highs of Shiro’s cheekbones, and he turns away to stare in consternation at whatever appears to be on Jackson’s shirt.

 

“You trying to pull the overprotective card or something?” Adam asks after a pause, rolling the syllables around in his mouth. His gaze slants to meet Matt’s, and exasperation builds in his chest at the excited expression the cadet has plastered all over his face.

 

“Well, _someone_ has to look out for him. Especially if a big, bad wolf like you is thinking of targeting him.” Matt grins widely, leaning in to toss an arm around Adam’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you’ve got the hots for him!”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Adam catches Shiro stiffening, his shoulders rising up towards his ears, tension drumming through his veins. _Oh_ , he thinks, and something sly unfurls inside of him.

 

He tilts his body to Matt, physically paying attention to the cadet even if his eyes are trained on Shiro, and he laughs, loud enough for their friends to hear. “Why is everyone so disbelieving about this? Do we not go well together? I think we’d look fantastic.”

 

“Are we talking about _him_ again?” Ken asks, amusement dancing through his eyes as he throws an offhand glance at Shiro, who looks as lost as ever. Smirks instantly spring up on everyone’s faces, and Adam can’t help but look at them with exasperated fondness. They told literally everyone but the guy in question, even if Adam wouldn’t mind if Shiro knew.

 

He’s fairly confident in his ability to get Shiro into his bed. And he’s confident in his ability to keep their friendship intact, with or without the sex. So he’s not worried at all if Shiro finds out, but it appears his friends think he will be.

 

“Apparently so,” Matt says, folding both arms behind his neck, crossing his legs and balancing his ankle against his knee. “Mr. Hot Shot here thinks he’ll go _super_ well with that guy.”

 

Should he tell Shiro? It can’t be very fun to be left out of the loop when everyone else in the group knows, right? “They’re talking about the guy that’s caught my eye recently,” Adam explains, his words clearly directed at Shiro. The cadet perks up at being addressed and receiving an explanation, before the words process in his mind and he- he visibly blanches.

 

That’s not a reaction he was expecting.

 

“You… like someone, then?” Shiro inquires, voice strangely low. It sends a shudder through Adam’s body, one that he furiously represses in the hope of not being seen by Matt. “Do I know him? Is he in our year?”

 

“Oh, is he _ever_ ,” Matt calls out, fanning himself with a hand. “Yes, Shiro,” he says with bright eyes and a smile that Adam just knows is full of sadism, “you definitely know him.”

 

Is this going to be a running gag then? That everyone in the group knows Adam would very much like to take Shiro to bed except for the other person in the equation himself?

 

Well, it’s pretty hilarious seeing Shiro get so worked up thinking about who it could be. He’s throwing names out, literally going through the entire list of cadets in their year, and their friends are taking gleeful pleasure in shooting down every single one of them. Maybe he’ll just let this go on for a while, Adam considers with a smirk. It’s nice seeing Shiro sweat it out.

 

He’ll probably tell Shiro eventually. One day. Not today, though, because-

 

“-are we going to see your father then?” Adam asks, the last of his thoughts escaping his mouth. Matt hums, taking his phone out and scrolling through his messages. “I’ve been meaning to ask him something about the latest geology findings that’s been entered in the database. He was in that group, wasn’t he?”

 

“God, I can’t even tell the difference between you being actually interested, and you trying to suck up to get a good review,” Matt replies candidly, but nods anyways. “Yeah, I probably should drop by, so- oh no. No, sorry, looks like we can’t go to my dad’s workplace today!”

 

Adam peers at his phone. “Why not?”

 

“It’s take-your-child-to-work day,” Matt whispers back, horrified, and his face falls even further when Jackson perks up. “Oh no, you _demons_ , stay away from me!”

 

Jackson’s already prowling nearer, Alexis right behind him. “Take-your-child-to-work day? And if you’re here…” Jackson trails off, eyes lighting up.

 

“… that means darling Katie is with your dad!” Alexis finishes with glee, clapping her hands together. “Has she finished that AI she’s trying to build yet? Oh her programming is _so_ precious, I can’t wait to take a look at it!”

 

“You two are going to stay far away from my sister, or I’ll call the cops on both of you,” Matt yells, bringing his phone protectively to his chest. “You’ll corrupt her! Both of you! With your evil wicked hacking ways! Katie is a good girl who shouldn’t hack anything!”

 

“Is that why your sister asked you if Jackson and Alexis were coming today, then?” Shiro calls out, a large grin stretching across his face.

 

Matt looks startled, before the betrayal sinks in and he turns despondent, trying to hide in Adam’s shoulder. “Oh, you are _evil_ ,” he hisses, false venom threading through his voice. “Takashi Shirogane, you better watch yourself or you’ll find yourself locked out of your dorm!”

 

“He can come sleep in mine,” Adam offers, laughing when Matt shoots him another of his patented disappointed looks, copyrighted by the entire Holt family. “I’m sure Ken wouldn’t mind sparing his bed.”

 

“Or he could sleep in your bed,” Ken says, and the irritation shaking through Matt’s shoulders suddenly turn into hysterical laughter.

 

Shiro just looks confused. “But where’s Adam going to sleep?”

 

“In the bed,” Ken clarifies. “With you. Together. While I sleep alone on the other side so nothing dirty can happen. Unless you two are exhibitionists, which in that case, go right ahead if you don’t mind me watching.”

 

Adam can practically see the cogs turning in Shiro’s head, and the moment the information sets in and the link is made, Shiro opens his mouth, a stammer ready to fall from his lips. The train pulls to a stop right as that happens, a beeping sound emanating from the speakers, and the doors slide open.

 

“Come on then,” Jackson and Alexis chorus, pulling a begrudging Matt up by the base of his arms. “Off to see Katie!”

 

Everyone files out of the train, leaving a shocked Shiro still standing in the train carriage. Adam meets his eyes, and maybe it’s because Ken just made a joke about them being together under bed sheets in compromising positions, but Shiro’s pupils look blown out; the mere sight of him is electrifying.

 

“Well,” Adam says, standing and brushing imaginary dust mites off his lap, striding forward and knocking his shoulder casually against Shiro’s. He looks back, offering him a grin that multiple people have breathlessly told him looks charming as all hell. He hopes it takes Shiro’s breath away. “Come on then. Can’t keep them waiting.”

 

Adam sweeps out of the train carriage, and the thud of hesitant footsteps following after him is a heady sound in his ears.

 

-+-

 

If there’s one thing Adam can’t do well in this whole Garrison, it’s flying. Wildly unfortunate, since everyone in the Garrison has to know at least a little bit of everything, and a whole lot about flying.

 

In theory, he’s top of the class. He knows exactly which maneuvers to use, exactly which commands to give to formations, the most efficient way to tackle an enemy invasion etcetera, etcetera, but when it comes to actual practical examinations, he knows he’s a bust.

 

A bust as in, he’s barely scraping by fifth place in class, but that’s absolutely terrible considering he’s either first or second in everything else. And Iverson, good God, Adam’s surviving by the skin of his teeth and the grace of that man. It pays off to have teachers like him, especially if it appears he’s the only one who can make Shiro into anything resembling a respectful cadet.

 

He wants to slam his fists against the dashboard but he refrains, tired eyes staring at the red numbers flashing back at him, frustration pulling at his shoulders. Maybe fifth time’s the charm, he thinks, and resigns himself to going back out to start the simulation again.

 

Four attempts and his timing just gets worse and worse. Why can’t he just clear this goddamn stage under forty seconds? That’s not even first place material, it’s just a few seconds better than third place. But he just- he can’t-

 

The doors slide open and Adam stands, intending to leave and restart the simulation, but his legs fail him. He blinks, realizing they’re about to buckle and send his knees thudding to the ground, and he can’t find it in himself to care. He’ll just fall and crawl to the processor to restart it. Why ever not, right?

 

He blinks again, and stares in confusion at the ground that still seems quite a distance away, even though his legs are weak and have already given out on him. He doesn’t appear to have hit the ground. Something warm wraps around his shoulders and he glances up, squinting behind his glasses.

 

“Hey.” Shiro’s face swims into vision, and Adam purses his lips. Not exactly the guy he wants to see right now, when he’s been slogging over his flight sims and suddenly the god of flight sims appears to _mock_ him.

 

 _Go away_ , he thinks, but his traitorous fingers curl tighter around Shiro’s firm biceps and Adam sags into his hold, muscles going lax as he buries his face in Shiro’s neck.

 

He can feel Shiro stiffen, tension carving a fission through his spine. A whine finds its way out of his throat, rumbling through his body and he feels faint. Maybe doing four simulations in a row isn’t good for his health, Adam considers, but finds some part of him doesn’t quite care.

 

“Hey, you okay?” Shiro props him up, letting him settle lightly against the arm of the pilot seat, ducking down to carefully scan his face. His lips twist into a frown, and Adam tries to look away. He _really_ doesn’t Shiro to see him like this. Bitter at his failure, torn up to bits over his inability to fly through a goddamn hole. It’s not a pretty sight.

 

His body feels limp. This might be the onset of a fever, the beginnings of a headache pounding away at his temple and at the back of his eyes. Adam lets his eyelids flutter and he breathes out a laugh, hoping his voice isn’t as weak as he feels. “No, really? Do I not look fine? Didn’t know you had eyes.”

 

Ah, he can taste the sarcasm bleeding off his tongue. It’s an instinct by now, grating on his nerves as his defense mechanism kicks in and his mind bristles at the thought of Shiro thinking he’s weak. Too weak to fight or fly, so he turns to talking down to Shiro.

 

He peels an eye open and sees Shiro’s brows furrowed in frustration. Not anger, Adam notes curiously, just frustration. Irritation, maybe. But Shiro’s not gearing up for a fight.

 

Instead, he pushes Adam’s fringe out of his eyes and rests his forehead against Adam’s. It’s a familiar act, but something far away in his memory. No one’s really measured temperatures like this anymore, not when they had the advanced scanners in the medward. Or even the thermal sensors in the labs. They could practically take temperatures with anything now, and seeing Shiro’s face so close makes him flush.

 

“What?” He murmurs, turning his gaze away. “Stop it. I don’t have a fever.”

 

“You look weak enough to have one,” Shiro shoots back, but leans away and busies himself with scanning through the numbers flashing on the screen. He raises an eyebrow, hand passing over the dashboard and lingering on the switches at the side.

 

He glances back at Adam. “Forty-three seconds isn’t _bad_ , you know.”

 

Adam muffles a snort. Shiro actually sounds confused. Ah, how nice it must be to go about life without having a desperate need to do well in things or face crippling self-deprecation, he imagines, and shakes the thought out of his head.

 

“But it’s not good,” he replies, looking at the ground. His fingers clench into fists and he rests them on his trembling thighs. What does he have other than the Garrison? He stifles a bitter laugh. Not much. He spent all his savings to fly out here and join this school – his parents’ hopes are riding on him. And he wants to be a teacher here. He needs to be the best of the best, polish his resume up so well that no one on the jury can question his authority to join the Garrison permanently.

 

His eyelids feel heavy and his fingers feel numb, but what’s there to be done about it? The test is in a week, and if he can’t reliably clear this simulation in under forty seconds by then, he’ll definitely be unable to do it on the day itself.

 

“Your reflexes are shot to shit right now.” There’s a firm undercurrent of disappointment that brooks no argument. Adam’s head shoots up anyways, jaw dropping as he readies himself for an argument, but Shiro holds up a hand. “Take it from me, okay? You’re not in the right state of mind to be doing so many rounds of the same thing. Go to sleep, and try again in two days.”

 

He snorts, a dry chuckle pouring out into the air. “Easy for you to say, top of the class. You’re not the one who’s worried sick over scoring in the top three.”

 

Shiro runs a hand through his hair and whirls around, frustration painted all over his face. Adam startles; he’s never seen Shiro look like this before. Tension curls around the corner of his eyes and there’s a strain to his shoulders. He looks- he looks upset, for lack of a better word. Adam can’t fathom why he’d be upset.

 

“You know what? I’m tired of you trying to- I don’t even know what this, self-destruction? First of all, I don’t understand why you refuse to listen to advice when it’s _good_ for you. You always go on and on about how I’m so much better at you when it comes to flying so if I’m trying to give you some tips about how to fly better, maybe you should _listen_!” He snarls out, the words spilling out of him like Adam’s unwittingly unlocked his Pandora Box. The bite in his words is shocking.

 

Adam blinks at him, watches blankly as Shiro runs another hand through his hair, messing it up as his fingers thread through the strands furiously. “It’s like you’re constantly being so hard on yourself for god knows what reason – you know you _don’t_ have to be first in everything, right? You don’t even have to be in the top three! The teachers all love you and they’re going to give you stunning reviews when you graduate, you’ll definitely become the next Literature Head in like a year or something, and-”

 

Shiro inhales, stumbling over the syllables that fall too quickly from his mouth, annoyance pulling his jaw tight. “-I don’t like seeing you do this to yourself, you know? I don’t- I don’t want to see you pushing yourself to the brink all the time and then I’ll never know if you’re too close to the edge or you’re dangling off the precipice. You look so _tired_ sometimes. And maybe it’s not my place to worry, but…”

 

He trails off, voice turning small and quiet and just a little bit sad, “…I just worry. I can’t help but worry. And sometimes I think you’re just too prideful to accept help from other people.”

 

Adam stares. He doesn’t do much else, just gazes stupidly at Shiro with his mouth still half-open, fingers clenching around nothing as he fidgets on the spot. He might be turning red, a bone-deep embarrassment snaking its way up his spine and coiling around the curve of his neck. Maybe a fever isn’t that implausible after all, with the way he finds himself short of breath and his mind feels hazy.

 

Shiro’s gaze flickers up to meet his, flashing Adam a set of determined eyes before he sets his shoulders and starts forward. Adam flinches back instinctively, pushing back and almost tripping over the pilot seat. He slips, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the seat and Shiro pulls him up.

 

 _Shiro, Shiro, Shiro_ , Adam thinks faintly, eyeing his grip on his shoulder. It feels like it’ll leave a bruise. Five finger-shaped bruises that he’ll have to face in the mirror whenever he changes.

 

He doesn’t know when this started, but somehow it feels like he’s been chasing Shiro’s shadow and being chased by Shiro all at once, and now they’ve somehow caught up with each other in the middle of the road.

 

“…Sorry,” Adam offers after a while, the apology slipping from his lips and hanging in the silence in between them. “I-” he looks around, trying to think of something to say, throat working furiously as he swallows tightly. Was Shiro always so big, towering over him like this? Was his hand always so warm?

 

It feels hot in the cabin, even though Adam knows for a fact that the cooler is still at full blast.

 

“-I’ll stop. Come back tomorrow.” He winces at the look on Shiro’s face. “Two days later?”

 

Shiro gives a sharp nod. “And today, you’re going back to bed. And next time you’re suffering because you can’t do something, or you’re irritated at something, or you’re upset, just- just _tell_ me, okay? Don’t try to settle it all by yourself.”

 

Adam tries to stand, but his legs give out beneath him and he tips forward. Shiro’s there to catch him (how many times does this make? How many times has Shiro caught him tonight? It’s a startling revelation) and Adam nods into his neck.

 

They’re so different, but he can’t help but be entranced by Shiro all the same. He’s such a straightforward person, throwing his thoughts out into the air and leaving both parties floundering at how to react; it’s a sharp contrast to Adam, who avoids conflict and irons everything out as soon as possible to make sure his reputation is unsullied. Personally, he strongly dislikes confrontational people because of how often they force others into having conversations that no one wants to have.

 

But Shiro’s always been an exception, ever since he first stepped into the Garrison as a transferee and Adam was assigned to show him around.

 

-+-

 

“I wanna show you something,” Shiro says, pulling at Adam’s wrist. There’s an eager smile on his face, anticipation bubbling through him as he leads Adam to the garage.

 

Adam lets himself be tugged along, raising an eyebrow as he stares at the space allocated to the students for individual projects. He’s been there a few times, lounging around with a book as Ken joins forces with Alexis and makes another robot in their free time. Their room must be full of robots by now, tiny things that are about two hands tall and vibrate with excitement whenever anyone familiar steps into the room.

 

He wonders what Shiro’s so excited about showing him. Probably not a robot, but then again, it appears that Shiro simply lives to surprise him with everything he does.

 

They’re out after curfew, hurrying past the main building with their shoes scuffling against rough gravel and kicking up small bursts of red sand. The sky stretches out above them, darkness bleeding into flutters of silver as the stars flicker. Adam glances up, barely catching a glimpse of one of the more recent moons they’ve discovered before Shiro skids to a stop in front of the double doors.

 

His breath comes out in short pants, breathing a little heavily from the light sprint they just did, and Shiro reaches out to swipe his identification card against the keypad. It blinks green, the double doors seamlessly sliding open and throwing the interior into silver moonlight.

 

“Now they’ll know you came here in the middle of the night,” Adam chides, even as his lips curl up in a smile. There’s something exhilarating about breaking curfew, even though he’s always been so careful not to have any marks on his record for the past two years. It took Shiro about three weeks to convince him to do this- this midnight escapade to see whatever it is waiting for him in the garage, and it makes him feel giddy.

 

Shiro chuckles, leading him through the doors with a steady hand. He moves as if he’s already memorized the layout of this place, finding the sensor with ease and tapping impatiently at it to kick the lights on.

 

“Exactly how often have you been coming here?” Adam asks, turning back to spot the doors closing behind them. “You seem rather well-versed in this garage. A little rebel, is it?”

 

“Can’t have them finding out about my project when it’s not even done, can I?” Shiro shoots back. His fingers are warm around Adam’s wrist, and he mildly entertains the idea of letting his hand slip down further to entwine his fingers with Shiro’s.

 

Then Shiro pulls a little harder, excitement so obviously racing down his spine that Adam can’t help but smile fondly at him, and he banishes the thought from his mind.

 

He eyes the gadgets strewn across tables, the tools that are clearly not where they’re supposed to be, the holographic blueprints floating above the tablets that switched on when the power started- there’s a lot to look at. Adam usually doesn’t pay much attention to them, following wherever Ken wants him to go, but now he’s curious. Something here is what Shiro wants to show him. He can’t wait to take a look, but he also can’t imagine what it could be.

 

It’s embarrassing to admit, but Adam ends up so distracted by all the things in the garage – someone was trying to build a robot about three times the size of a human, with something that distinctly looked like a _cockpit_ in there, as if he was planning to sit in it – that he almost bumps into Shiro’s back. As it is, the bridge of his nose collides with the sharp curve of Shiro’s spine, and he makes a face as he takes a few steps back.

 

“Here it is,” Shiro says eagerly, throwing his hand out. His other hand is still holding on to Adam’s wrist, and he stares it for a moment before deciding to just throw caution to the wind and slip his fingers into Shiro’s hand. He can probably pass it off as being half-awake.

 

Shiro jerks back, eyes darting down to their hands, and Adam can feel Shiro’s fingers flutter around his hand. Not something he’s interested in right now, however, because he’s staring open-mouthed at the beauty before him.

 

It’s- he swallows tightly, eyes wide as he blinks. A hoverbike sits before him, leaning against its stand, as if waiting for him to ride it. It’s polished to a shine, the black coat of paint gleaming at him under the bright lights of the garage and it looks absolutely-

 

Adam finds himself short of breath. He inhales shakily, squeezing Shiro’s fingers sporadically. “It’s gorgeous,” he says breathlessly. A hand reaches out, almost touching the surface before he hesitates and glances back at Shiro. “Can I- can I touch it?”

 

“Go ahead,” Shiro murmurs, taking a closer step towards Adam, crowding him in towards the bike. Adam goes with it, leaning in and resting his hand against its smooth curve, carefully stroking it. He might actually be able to see his reflection in it, with how sleek the surface is.

 

He leans back absentmindedly, feeling Shiro’s broad chest behind and decides to settle back even further. “How fast can it go?”

 

“As fast as you want it to,” Shiro replies, and Adam can feel the curl of his smile against his neck.

 

It feels like they’re a couple, showing off trinkets to each other and trying to impress the other – except the trinket this time is a brilliantly fixed up hoverbike.

 

“Don’t joke around,” Adam says, amusement threading through his voice. “Does it go over the speed limit?”

 

Shiro snorts disbelievingly, shaking his head. “Every hoverbike out there goes over the speed limit. This one goes triple it.”

 

“ _Triple_ it?” Something inside of Adam tells him he should be vaguely worried about that possibility, but anticipation unfurls in his stomach. He’s never been on a real hoverbike. Tons of simulations, yes, he’s been on enough rollercoasters and sat in enough simulations to know he’ll like it. Scratch that, he’ll love it.

 

“Did you make it from scratch or just fixed it up?” If he turns at just the right angle, he can see their reflections bouncing off the side mirror. Shiro’s resting his chin on the edge of his shoulder and their hands are entwined – it looks like the cover poster of a romance movie. It certainly feels like one, too.

 

There’s a humming noise at his ear. He idly thinks about what time it must be. They can’t be out too late, because people in this school wake up at ungodly hours to get started on whatever their latest pet project is.

 

Shiro clears his throat and shrugs. They’re so close to each other that Adam can feel the shrug vibrating through his body. It makes him want to _do_ things to Shiro, affection purring in his chest like a contented kitten.

 

“Found an abandoned one in the junk. Decided to brush it up. And it’s kinda illegal for me to own one so that’s why I’ve only been working on it at night.” Adam stifles a laugh. Shiro retells the story like it’s no concern of his that he’s breaking the rules. To think of it, he probably doesn’t care that much, not when he gets to mess around with a hoverbike in exchange.

 

If Adam wasn’t so invested in getting that Literature Head seat, he might be more inclined to find a hoverbike of his own to fix up as well.

 

He turns to level a look at Shiro. His gaze darts back to the bike, tracing the edges, and a smile spreads across his lips. “You’ll look good on black,” he says quietly, picturing it in his head. “Is she ready for a ride?”

 

Shiro laughs, stepping away from Adam. The sudden chill leaves him bereft of Shiro’s attention. The cadet in question strides over to the front of the bike, throwing a leg over and settling on it. One hand reaches forward to get a good grip on the handlebars; the other pats the space behind him.

 

“She can seat two easily. Want a ride?”

 

Adam would willingly ride the cadet sitting on it right now if asked, but the hoverbike isn’t that bad of a second place to settle for. He nods hesitantly, lingering at the seat before taking a deep breath and sliding onto the seat the same way Shiro did. His hands rest on his thighs at first, unsure of where to put them, and Shiro reaches around to grab his hand.

 

“Come on, arms around me. You need to hold on tight, or you’ll fall off,” he advises, tugging at Adam until he’s seated right up against Shiro’s back, elbows tucked in next to Shiro’s ribs. “We’ll have to drive slowly out of here, but once we get to the sand dunes a little further out, it’s a free for all.”

 

He can’t see it, but he can hear the boyish grin in Shiro’s voice. A smile ticks up on his lips and he leans his forehead against Shiro’s neck, blinking at the sight of his chest pressed up against Shiro’s back, his hips snugly fitted right into the curve of the small of his back.

 

“If anything happens to me, I’m suing you,” Adam teases. Shiro scoffs, shaking his head as he slowly steers the bike around. It’s a bit of a trying experience, trying to maneuver the hoverbike through the mess of the garage without toppling over.

 

Every bump makes Adam clench his arms tighter around Shiro’s waist – he seems to find it funny, the devil that he is, purposefully tilting over as far as he can go before abruptly pulling back upright and putting Adam’s heart back in his chest cavity from where it had slid all the way to his throat. Adam thinks of letting an arm go just to smack him, and Shiro swerves to the side again, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of the table, and Adam decides he’s better off so tightly wrapped around Shiro that if he falls, he’s dragging Shiro down with him.

 

They make it out of the garage with Adam red in the face, muffling his aborted shrieks in Shiro’s back as the cadet in front of him laughs. He takes one hand off the handlebars-

 

“-Shiro, put that hand back or I’ll actually throw you off this bike myself,” Adam hisses through his teeth, fingers clutching Shiro’s shirt so tightly he might actually tear fabric. There’s a shriek building up in his throat as the bike careens to the side- he’s tilting, tilting, his center of balance is so far off- “-it’s not funny- it’s _not_ , so stop laughing!”

 

Shiro, the absolute madman, takes both hands off the handlebars the moment they exit the Garrison compound. The bike picks up speed at that very moment, engine purring to existence as momentum throws the both of them backward, and Adam swears he can feel himself sliding off.

 

“Driving with no hands,” Shiro teases, one free hand reaching down to cover Adam’s. There’s a moment where it’s just his warm palm enveloping the back of Adam’s hand, a heartbeat where he just inhales wildly, and then Shiro’s fingers curl in and he links their hands.

 

“If I die on this bike, I’ll come back from the grave just to haunt your ass and make you go to an early death as well.” His breath is shaky in his throat. The moonlight paints over the red sand dunes with a silver hue, throwing everything into dark slates of purple and grey. If he squints, Adam thinks he can make out the trails they leave behind them, long streaks of sand kicking up as the hoverbike flies past, a cloud of dust and sand following their path.

 

The sky is beautiful at night. It melts into a mess of shadows, the occasional hint of viridian pouring over the sky, dark blue and green mixing together to form a sky so dark it could almost be black. The constellations twinkle back at him as he looks up, all the moons they’ve ever discovered flickering in and out of sight as they orbit around their planets.

 

His hair is in his face – stray strands fly into his mouth and Adam struggles to spit them out. He worries about his glasses falling off his face, he thinks about how he might fall off the bike, he peers over Shiro’s shoulder to consider how fast they’re traveling. His legs are numb and his arms feel tingly from how hard he’s clutching Shiro.

 

Adam breathes, eyes so wide he risks the possibility of sand grains flying in even with his glasses on, mouth open in a slack-jawed expression as he stares at the scenery flashing by them. The night sky blends into the line of sand dunes, slanting against rock formations and dusting shadows over them.

 

“It’s gorgeous,” he says fervently, barely remembering to blink as he stares intensely at the skyline. “This is- this is great. It’s gorgeous, Shiro, it really is.”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro replies. Adam can hear the smugness in his voice. “It’s perfect.”

 

He turns, a breathless smile spreading over his face, but it wobbles in place when he sees Shiro staring straight at him. There’s a soft grin that Adam wants to kiss off Shiro’s face, but something holds him back. Something foreign makes him hesitate, something that feels a whole lot like low self-esteem.

 

“Eyes up front,” he tells Shiro, fighting to keep his voice steady. He wants, he wants, he _wants_ -

 

“I wanted to ask if you’ll go out with me,” Shiro abruptly mentions. He’s facing front again, both hands on the handlebars, revving the engine so loudly Adam almost thinks he misheard him. As it is, he presses close and wonders wildly if he did.

 

“Go out with me,” the cadet repeats, voice rising to be heard over the engine. Just barely, just _barely_ enough for Adam to blink and stare at the nape of Shiro’s neck, the sudden stiffness to his shoulders, the tension curling down his ramrod straight spine.

 

For the first time in a long while, Adam’s mind feels empty. Clear of all worries, of any need to maintain his image, of everything in the world except him and Shiro. His heart pounds in his chest, beating triple time and going faster than his mind can process. It feels a lot- he hesitates to complete the sentence, but his mind spits it out anyways.

 

It feels a lot like love, he thinks, and his brain short circuits.

 

“Yeah,” he murmurs into the back of Shiro’s neck, his lips forming the word against skin. “You goddamn idiot, _yes_.”

 

“I can’t hear you!” Shiro yells, but there’s a giddy amusement to his voice that tells Adam, _yes_ he heard it, he just wants to hear it again.

 

He’s feeling particularly magnanimous, cruising down an empty desert on the back of a hoverbike with his arms wrapped around the guy he’s apparently in love with, so he says it again and again until his throat goes hoarse.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up to a hazy figure hovering over him. Adam rolls over, dragging his cover higher against his shoulder and murmurs something against his pillow. There’s a laugh against the side of his ear, low and gentle, and Adam peeks an eye open.

 

Shiro’s blurry form looms over him. There’s no one else it can be, with those large shoulders and gigantic arms leaning over to pull the covers off him. Adam struggles feebly against him, lips spreading into a grin as he tangles himself up in the covers.

 

“Adam,” Shiro says wryly, tugging harder. “Get up, you big oaf. You’ve slept in long enough.”

 

“Mmhmm... no,” Adam murmurs in response, turning to lie flat on his back and running a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “What’re you doing here? Where’s Ken?”

 

His voice is still heavy with sleep, a long drawl leaving his throat with a groan, and he stifles a laugh when he sees the tips of Shiro’s ears turn red. Adam always gets a bit delirious when he wakes up in the morning. The few minutes in between rolling out of bed and getting coffee into him is the golden time period to get him to agree to anything. He’s at his most pliable now, and Shiro knows this well enough.

 

Adam laughs at the thought. Shiro’s taken advantage of him in this weak state more times than he can count, accosting him in his room and making a sleepy Adam agree to a ton of outrageous ideas. Like convincing Ken to make the food processor dispense Sprite for a whole week. Like sweet-talking Iverson to get them into the advanced simulation that was still in the works to test it out. Like sneaking into the kitchens at night to make a snack to eat when it was supposed to be lights off.

 

It’s only gotten worse now that they’re both instructors.

 

“C’mere,” he hums, reaching out both hands. Shiro goes willingly, bending down far enough for Adam to see his reflection in Shiro’s eyes. The cadet abruptly comes sharply into focus, and Adam leans up to press his fingers against the flushed tips of Shiro’s ears. They’re cold, and Shiro flinches at the touch.

 

Adam smiles and rubs behind him, running a hand through Shiro’s hair, patting down any stray bedhead that stubbornly sticks up. “Cute,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazes up at Shiro.

 

“Happy birthday, you absolute menace,” Shiro mumbles in embarrassment, lips curling up as he ducks down to brush them against the side of Adam’s ear. His hair tickles the side of Adam’s face, the short tufts of black long enough to make Adam think about cutting them for him again.

 

“This is a very nice way to wake up,” Adam agrees, enjoying the way Shiro’s all but lying against him, the feel of sharp shoulders digging into skin, the ache of hip bones knocking against each other. There’s the scrape of teeth against his neck and Adam leans into it, back curving up as he pushes his head back into the pillow, baring his neck.

 

Shiro huffs out a laugh and lets his teeth dig in. It’s a sharp pain against the side of Adam’s neck, a careful bite with echoes of pain that trembles through his nerves. He groans, pressing up into it, a stray hand tracing up Shiro’s spine and lingering on his neck, fingers gently pressing against the highest bridge of his backbone.

 

Shiro laughs, soothing the bite with tiny kitten licks, teeth catching against tan skin every now and then. Adam involuntarily lets a drowsy noise leave his mouth, an immeasurable satisfaction curling throughout his entire body. He lies there for a moment more, content to let Shiro make the bruise even more prominent, running his hand along the wide expanse of Shiro’s back.

 

“You ruined my grand plan. I was going to wake you up early, take you out, and surprise you with something at night.” Shiro presses closer against Adam, until he can feel Shiro’s body warmth filtering in from under his clothes. Shiro always did run hot, Adam thinks fondly, petting his hair.

 

“Let’s reschedule,” he suggests lazily. “Take me out for dinner and surprise me at night. Let’s just laze around right now. Make Alexis serve us room service. It’ll be great.”

 

“She’ll kill us.”

 

“Not if I promise her a favor in the future,” Adam corrects, fingers still tangled in Shiro’s hair. He can feel every breath against his skin. He can feel every heartbeat pulsing at his neck. “Doesn’t lying here like this sound appealing? When you’ve kidnaped Ken off to god knows where and you have me all to yourself?”

 

Shiro presses an open-mouthed kiss to the base of Adam’s jaw, breath warm and wet against skin. “It sounds very nice, but I made a reservation at Mizar and I wouldn’t want to miss that.”

 

Adam wakes up a little more at that, eyes widening as he straightens. He pushes at Shiro, laughing as the man whines at him. “You should have led with that. I haven’t been to Mizar in _ages_. How did you get a reservation?”

 

“You reserve it two months in advance,” Shiro replies, falling back onto the bed with a flop as Adam gets up. He tangles his fingers in the comforters, lazily eyeing Adam as he pulls a shirt over his head. “I went to so much trouble for you, you know?”

 

“Thank you for your sacrifice,” Adam teases, grinning as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame it into something manageable. “Is that all you’re wearing to Mizar?”

 

Shiro looks down at his outfit – a shirt and jeans, and looks back up. “No go?” He asks ruefully, already getting up to rifle through Adam’s closet himself.

 

“No go,” Adam replies with a laugh, hip-checking Shiro forcefully to the side as he takes point at his closet instead. “Something a little nicer than jeans. I’ll be changing again later, of course, but this should be enough for breakfast in mess hall.”

 

He holds out a button down, tilting his head as he stares it down. “What do you think about this?”

 

The silence that follows is strange. Adam waits a little longer, rifling through the clothes, but eventually curiosity gets the better of him and he turns.

 

There isn’t anyone standing before him, so his eyes drop down instinctively and his breath stutters in his throat. Adam’s certain he explodes into color, all the blood rushing to his face so quickly it makes his head spin.

 

“Wha- what is this?” He croaks out, his voice shaking. “Shiro?”

 

Shiro grins up at him, one knee on the ground, the other leg firmly planted against the ground. One arm is propped up on the upright leg; his other elbow is tucked above it. Adam slowly traces the path upwards – the elbow leads to a thick wrist that’s faintly trembling, and that leads to a shaky hand with fingers wrapped around-

 

“I asked Ken for your finger size,” Shiro says, holding out a thin silver band. “And I know it’s not much, but I got them to write something inside-”

 

“Shut up,” Adam berates him vehemently, and Shiro goes quiet so fast it almost gives Adam whiplash. He takes a step forward, another, _another_ , and his fingers slowly close around the ring in Shiro’s hand.

 

It glints in the artificial light of the room. It’s tiny and light with absolutely no give, even if it looks so slender it makes him think he could break it if he tried hard enough.

 

His vision might be getting blurry. There’s something in his eyes, something pressing harshly against the back of his eyes and he can’t see what’s written inside the ring no matter how close he brings it to his face.

 

“It says patience yields success,” Shiro adds helpfully. Then a bashful grin sneaks onto his face, and he says, “I mean, you’re the success, of course. Get it?”

 

“Shut _up_ ,” Adam barely chokes out. It sounds more like a sob than anything, and he needs to get himself together. This is _not_ how the esteemed, _youngest_ Literature Head of the Garrison should be acting. “God, you’re so-”

 

“-oh yeah,” Shiro finishes, when Adam finds himself at a lost for words. Adam wants to smack the smirk off his face. He really, really wants to. With his lips. “I know, I’m absolutely terrible but I love you. And I know you love me too. So I decided, why not make it halfway official if we know we’re it for each other?”

 

“God,” Adam marvels, pulling Shiro to his feet and forcibly carving a spot in Shiro’s embrace for himself. “God, you’re the absolute _worst_. On my birthday, and this early? You’re lucky I love you.”

 

Shiro laughs. “I was going to do it at night, but then you looked so beautiful trying to choose my clothes for me from your closet and it felt so domestic I decided I wanted to do it now. So here we are.”

 

He tugs Adam closer, arms wrapping around his waist and holding him tight, tight, _tight_. “The day you got assigned as my tour guide to the Garrison might just be the luckiest day of my life. I love you.”

 

“I thought the luckiest day of your life was the day I finally took you to bed,” Adam says in a watery laugh. “I love you so, _so_ much. And I don’t think I properly gave you an answer, so it’s a- it’s a, a _yes_.”

 

“Again.”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“…Again.”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Shiro, are we really doing this again?”

 

“…”

 

“Yes, a million times yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review on your way out or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/)


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